Living A Lie No Longer
by The Jersey Boy
Summary: Fed up with only being able to say his own name, Timmy has Dr. Mephesto correct his speech disorder. But do his friends and band really want him to be more verbal? Or will his attitude pull him apart from those he loves? Read to find out, Review when don


Living A Lie No Longer

By The Jersey Boy

NOTES: Yo! The Jersey Kid, with my first South Park fic! I don't own these characters, but you bet your ass I wish I did! R/R and enjoy! ^_~

"All right, children, settle down." Said Mr. Garrison as the bell rang in South Park Elementary. "We've got a busy day today."

"We sure do, Mr. Garrison." Agreed Mr. Hat.

"Okay, children, let's start with some new math problems... Who can tell me what 4 divided by 2 is?"

Cartman immediately pulled his hat down over his face and whispered, "Holy Mary, mother of God, I pray that you don't let him call on me. I pray now and at the hour of my..."

"How about Timmy?" Said Mr. Garrison.

"Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" Sang Cartman, jumping up on his desk.

"Sit down, Eric. Go ahead Timmy. What's 4 divided by 2?"

Timmy thought for a moment. "Timmy, Timmy?"

"Very good, Timmy. It's 2, that's right. Now how about..."

"Dude, it's so cool that Timmy was able to adapt to his handicap." Kyle whispered to Stan.

"Yeah, he's like one of the coolest kids in town now." Stan agreed.

"Okay, Mr. Garrison, what's next on the lesson plan?" Mr. Hat asked.

"Glad you asked, Mr. Hat. We have...a test!"

Everyone groaned.

"Dude, how come WE'RE never glad he asked?" Kyle whispered.

"Now it's very important you pass this test..."

Butters raised his hand. "Uh, what if we don't?"

"Then you fail the class and go to summer school."

"Oh, Jesus!" Cried Tweek, "That is WAY too much pressure! Gaaah!" He quickly reached into his backpack and pulled out his thermos full of coffee. He took a huge gulp, then nervously started working on the test.

"And if you have a question about any of the problems, just raise your hand." Said Mr. Garrison.

Timmy raised his hand.

"Yes, Timmy, which problem do you need help on?"

"Timmy! Timmy! Timmy!"

"Oh problem 3? The answer is D. I couldn't get it either, I just used the teacher's guide."

"Mr. Garrison?" Said Cartman, raising his hand.

Mr. Garrison sighed. "What now, Eric?"

"I need help with problems, um, 1 through 15?"

Mr. Garrison stared at him, then said, "Get back to work, you bullshit artist."

"Hello there, children!" Said Chef as Stan and his friends walked into the cafeteria.

"Hey, Chef." They replied.

"Timmy."

"Oh, hello, Timmy!" Said Chef with a grin. "I never see you around much! What can I get you? Today we have pepperoni pizza, or grilled salsbury steak."

"Ahhhh, Timmy Timmy!"

"All right then!" Chef plopped the salsbury steak on Timmy's tray, and Timmy happily wheeled himself to his table.

"I'm so proud of that little cracka..." Said Chef. "He's learned to become a functioning member of society even though he's handicapped."

"Yeah, it's pretty sweet, isn't it?" Said Cartman. "NOW GIVE ME MY GODDAMN SALSBURY STEAK!"

That night, Stan, Kyle, and Tweek sat in the audience at Timmy's concert with his band, The Lords of the Underworld. They had become really popular, especially after their breakthrough at Lolapalazaza.

"Yeah, go Timmy!" Said a voice from behind them. Stan looked up, and jumped.

"Phil Collins? What are YOU doing here?"

"Well, I finally realized that Timmy's music is pretty cool after all. I mean! They always say, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em!"

Then the band finished their act.

"Thank you everyone! Goodnight!" Said Skyler from the stage.

"TIMMY!"

"Another great show, everyone!" Said Skyler as they walked off the stage.

Timmy spoke. "Timmy?"

"What is it, little dude?"

"Ah, Timmy! Uhhlivla Timmy!"

Skyler looked at the others. "Do you know what he's trying to say?" The others shook their heads.

"TIMMY! TIMMY!"

"Timmy we can't understand you." Said Maltie quietly.

"Come on, Timmy, let's get back to the van." Said Jonesy.

Timmy hung his head, but followed them out of the stadium.

The next day, Stan rang the bell on Kyle's door.

"What is it, Stan?" Said Kyle, yawning. "It's so early..."

"Dude, I got a phone call from Timmy!"

"You did?"

"Yeah. He said he wants us to meet him at 10:00!"

Kyle smirked. "He said that, huh?"

"That's what I think he said, anyway. He sounded really upset."

Kyle sighed. "All right, let's go get fatass. I mean, Cartman."

DING DONG!

"Oh hello, boys." Said Cartman's mother, opening the door.

"We need to talk to Cartman right away." Said Stan.

"Oh, he's still asleep, but you can wake him up if you like."

Stan and Kyle ran up to Cartman's room and shoved him. "Wake up, Cartman."

Cartman turned in his sleep. "No! I invoke the 5th amendment! Nooo!"

"Get up, lard butt!" Kyle screamed. Cartman jumped up.

"What the hell do you guys want?"

"We're going to see Timmy." Said Stan.

"What? Why?"

"We don't know. He just wants us to see him."

"Ah, screw you guys, I don't care." Cartman laid down again.

"Get up, fatass!" Screamed Kyle.

" 'ey! I said no! Now get the hell out of hyah!"

"Come on, dude, forget him." Said Stan. "Let's leave him here."

As they left, they heard Cartman mumble, "I did not have sexual relations with that woman!"

At 10:00, they met Timmy outside Shaky's Pizza.

"Okay, Timmy, what do you want?"

"Timmy!"

"What?"

Timmy pointed to his mouth. "Uhhlivlivlah Timmy!"

Kyle looked at Stan. "Dude, I have no f*ckin clue what he's saying."

"Grrr…" Timmy took out a picture book and opened to a page where two kids were talking to each other. "TIMMY!!!"

"Dude, I think he's saying he wants to be able to talk." Stan said. "We gotta help him."

"How are we going to do that?"

Dr. Mephesto sat in his lab, admiring his newest creation. "What do you think, Kevin?" He asked his pint-sized primate partner, "I've singlehandedly ended the Mario brother debate by genetically combining Mario and Luigi! Now nobody will have to argue why they always call it the 'Mario Brothers' and nobody will have to…"

The doorbell rang.

"I wonder who that is…" Mephesto went to the door and opened it. "Well, it's Stan, Kyle, and Timmy! How are you boys?"

"Dr. Mephesto, we need your help." Said Stan.

"Certainly. Come on in. What can I do for you boys?"

"Well, our friend Timmy can only say his own name, but he wants to be able to talk regular." Replied Kyle.

"TIMMY!"

"Hmm…interesting. I can do an experimental surgical process to correct the problem, if you like."

"Timmy!" Cried Timmy happily.

"Do it." Said Stan firmly.

"Very well. Keep yourselves busy until I finish."

COMMERCIAL

Starting tomorrow on Comedy Central, a brand new series featuring the craziest school in the world, the Rugby School! The show stars 2ie, Uncle Jesse, Whitey, and Big Willie as they deal with the crazy Navy SEAL teacher aide, the hat stealing ISS administrator, the Behavior Management director/Godfather, and much much more! See it today!

Now, back to South Park!

"Dude, Mephesto has some sick movies in his closet!" Exclaimed Stan, as he and Kyle watched a tape they had found in the lab.

"Shh! He's coming back!" Kyle quickly shut the TV as the operating room door opened.

"Where's Timmy?" Stan asked.

"Yo, dudes!" Said Timmy, walking out.

"Dude! He's walking!"

"Yes," said Mephesto with a smile, "I figured I may as well fix his legs, too."

"Sup, guys?" Timmy slapped them the high-five.

"This is so cool!" Said Kyle.

"You're telling me? Geez, it was so f*cking annoying only being able to say my own name… but now! Yah ha ha! I can't wait to tell everyone!"

"Ahem!" Coughed Mephesto, "I think you owe me some payment?"

Kyle sighed, and took out a CD-RW. "Here… 700 megs of J-Lo and Britney Spears pictures."

"Wonderful! Come, Kevin, we've got work to do!"

"Come on, dudes, let's go!" Said Timmy.

The next day, at school, the kids decided to surprise everyone else with Timmy's breakthrough. So during health class…

"All right, children, does anybody know what ADD is?" Asked Mr. Garrison.

Cartman sang quietly to himself. "And if I get called on, and cannot carry on, though I die, La Resistance lives on…."

Timmy raised his hand.

"Um, okay, Timmy, go ahead." Mr. Garrison had no idea how Timmy would answer this.

"ADD is a behavior disorder that affects many young childen, which causes short attention span, among other things. I was once believed to have had it, when in fact all I had was a birth defect that would allow me to only repeat my own name."

The classroom was so silent that you could hear Tweek's coffee bubbling in the thermos.

"Timmy, did you just say all that?" Mr. Garrison asked in surprise.

Timmy rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't, I said my name, like always. Here you go, if you're in such a big frickin rut… LIVLAH TIMMY! Are you satisfied, you gay puppet-wearing prick?"

Mr. Garrison was too shocked to speak, as was everyone in the class.

Timmy continued. "Oh, can't talk, huh? Why don't you ask your lover, Mr. Hat, what he thinks?"

"What did you call Mr. Hat?" Mr. Garrison cried angrily. "He is not my lover!"

"He must be," Countered Timmy, "Or else you wouldn't have your hand up his ass all the time."

The class gasped. Timmy was totally telling off the teacher!

So we all know where kids who do that go, don't we?

"Timmy, I'm really glad you're able to speak now, m'kay, but that doesn't give you a reason to speak to your teacher that way." Mr. Mackey was lecturing Timmy in his office, with Craig of course waiting to be seen outside.

"Can I talk to you that way instead, fat-head?"

"What did you call me, young man?!"

"What did you all go deaf over the weekend?"

"M'kay, Timmy, you have two options… you can either wise up and stop telling off the teachers, or you can be suspeded!"

"Can I make a third suggestion?" Timmy asked.

"M'kay, what?"

"How about you go…" The bell ringing for the end of the day drowned out much of Timmy's suggestion. "…until the handle breaks off, and you have to find a doctor to put it back on again!"

Timmy soon found himself flat on his ass outside the school.

"Man, screw those guys anyway. I'll go hang with my band. They'll understand me."

The members of The Lords of the Underworld were hanging out at Skyler's house, playing Super Smash Bros. Melee, when Timmy walked in.

"Wassup guys?" He said with a grin.

They were shocked. "Timmy… is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me! Your lead singer!"

"Dude, he can talk!" Cried Jonsey.

"Timmy that's so wonderful." Said Maltie quietly.

"Yeah, so now we can start REALLY singing!" Timmy declared.

The rest of the band exchanged nervous looks.

"Uh, dude, the reason everyone likes us so much is because of our one song…" explained Skyler.

"Yeah, but we could only do that song because of my defect. But now I'm all better and ready to wail! Ooohyeah!"

"Well, we don't think the public wants us to change."

"Will you at least read some of the songs I wrote?" Timmy asked, handing them some papers.

Skyler sighed. "Fine, we'll take a look."

"Thanks. I'm going to chill with my friends."

An hour later, Timmy sat with Stan and Kyle, watching Terrance and Phillip.

"Say Terrance, what did the American camper say to the Welsch camp counselor?"

"I don't know, Phillip. What?"

"FAAAART! Ahahahah!"

Timmy rolled his eyes. "This show is terrible."

"Dude, what are you talking about? You used to watch Terrance and Phillip with us all the time." Said Kyle.

"I had to! I couldn't say it sucked then, I could only say, 'Oh, I'm living a frickin lie, Timmy!' But I ain't living a lie no more! Let's watch this." He put on a 49'ers game.

"Okay, dude, get out of my house." Said Stan.

"Why?"

"First of all, we hate watching football, and secondly, no friend of ours roots for the 49ers. Until you can learn to like a decent team like the Broncos, you can find friends elsewhere."

Timmy got up. "Fine, I don't need you guys anyway! Screw you Stan, and Screw you Kyle! Shelly, you're still okay."

"Shut your mouth, retarded turd!" Stan's sister screamed.

"Hey, I'm not retarded, stupid bitch!"

Timmy left and went to go see what his band thought of his music.

"So nu? What did you think?" Timmy asked when he got there.

"Well, little dude, this isn't easy for us to say, but… we hated them."

"What?"

"Timmy, you just don't have it as a songwriter." Said Maltie.

"But guys, I hated that old song! And I'm not going to keep doing it."

"Well, I guess you can't stay with us then." Skyler said.

"WHAT???"

"I'm sorry, but if we can't do that song, we just can't keep playing. So we gotta ask you to leave."

Timmy growled and stormed out of Skyler's house. He sat down on the steps and cried.

"This isn't fair! I've lost my friends, I've lost my band, I've been kicked outta school… I used to be so popular… but I HATED just saying my own name. But…"

He set his chin and stood up. "Alright, there's a lie that's waiting to be lived!"

COMMERCIAL

(A man is sitting in a restaurant.)

MAN: I'll have a triple jumbo order of mozzarella sticks, 

please.

(Another man sitting next to him puts his menu down)

ANOTHER MAN: They're good, aren't they?

MAN: Mmmmph!!!

ANOTHER MAN: Hi, I'm Paul Glicklin with the Mozzarella Stick Addiction Team. We're a group dedicated to helping people overcome their addiction to these delicious but habit forming snacks.

(Paul is sitting at one of the meetings with a clipboard)

(A man stands up)

MAN: Hi, my name is Barry, and I'm addicted.

EVERYONE ELSE: Hi, Barry!!!

BARRY: I went to a restaurant and ordered all the mozzarella sticks they had in the back room. I'm very stupid. (hangs head)

COUNSELOR: No, nobody here is stupid, Barry.

PAUL: (turns to camera) As you can see, we use proven methods that allow people to have mozzarella sticks, but in strict moderation.

(Another meeting)

BARRY: I went out to eat, and I only got the order of 3!!!

EVERYONE: (clapping)

(Paul shakes Barry's hand)

PAUL: We're all very proud of you.

(Shows Paul sitting in a diner)

PAUL: So if you or someone you know is addicted to these habit-forming little beauties, then call 1-800-2STICKS and ask for me, Paul Glicklin. Because not only am I the President… (the waitress comes and puts down a 3-story high serving of Mozzarella Sticks) …I'm also a client.

FROM NEW YORK, THIS IS A DAILY SHOW NEWS UPDATE! NOW, JOHN STEWART!

Good evening, here are the stories I retrieved from Tom Brokaw's trash. President Bush raises a massive $3,000,000 in soft money fundraising. Is American Democracy for sale? Yes, and you can't afford it. In fact, don't even look at it…it's not for you. Plus Rush Limbaugh trumps Larry King in the mic-to-mic duel. When asked what his plans were after this, Rush simply rubbed his hands together and whispered "On to phase 2." All this plus a visit from Michael Bloomberg, at 11. I know… I don't know why either.

(Taken from actual News Updates by John Stewart on Comedy Central)

Now, back to South Park.

"Kevin, this is perhaps my greatest creation yet!" Delcared Mephesto. "I've combined the four stars of 'Seinfeld', thus eliminating the curse! If one of them has to perform, so do the other three! Otherwise, it won't be funny! And also…"

The doorbell rang.

"Coming! Oh, it's you, Timmy. What do you need?"

"Mephesto, I want you to change me back to how I was before."

"Change you back? Why?"

"Nobody likes me when I can talk. I've alienated myself from everyone! Please! I'll pay you well."

Mephesto frowned. "All right, come to the operating room."

The next morning, Stan and Kyle heard a familiar noise as class begun. Suddenly, Timmy wheeled himself to his desk.

"Hey, why did Timmy get back in his wheelchair?" Kyle wondered.

"Yeah, Timmy, what's up with that?" Stan asked.

Timmy looked at the ceiling. "Blaaaaaah!"

"Timmy? What's wrong with you?"

"Uhhhlivlah TIMMY!"

"The old Timmy is back!" Cried Cartman. Everyone cheered.

"Good to have you back, Timmy." Said Clyde.

"Timmy."

"So are you going to rejoin your band?" Asked Bebe.

"Ahhhla Timmy!"

Everyone cheered again.

"No matter what anybody s…sa…says, Timmy," Said Jimmy from his desk, "You just keep living that lie."

Timmy gave the thumbs up, and everybody clapped.

"Hey, where's Mr. Garrison?" Stan asked. Suddenly there was a clunk under the desk. "What was that?"

They were answered by Mr. Garrison's voice. "Oh, Mr. Hat… Oh God…"

"Oh dude, weak!" Cried Cartman.

THE END

Written by The Jersey Boy

Brought to you by Braniff (Who are they anyway?)

Email me at: Father_Hulk@yahoo.com 


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